


Culture Shock

by BellaMortis



Series: Trope Bingo - Round 3 [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU - Alternate Gender Roles, Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, NOT Omega Loki, Not Really That Slashy, Trope Subversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1549898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellaMortis/pseuds/BellaMortis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a universe where there are A/B/O dynamics on Earth, Loki attempts to launch an invasion.  Unfortunately, this is during a time that makes him seem like an Omega, when he's in fact not.  Featuring Alpha!Everyone (practically) and a seriously confused NOT Omega!Loki, who just wants everyone to leave him alone so he can focus on taking over Midgard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Culture Shock

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Anything trademarked is not mine. Just the embarrassing situations.
> 
> This story is a subversion of the A/B/O trope for the AU - Alternate Gender Norms square on my Trope Bingo card. On top of that, it's crack played straight. So, yeah, just as a warning, this one is weird.

The first thing that Loki noticed when he made his dramatically smoking entrance on Midgard was the fact that the realm _reeked_.  A veritable wave of perfumes, colognes, and other toiletries actually overpowered the scent of his slightly singed hair – always an unfortunate side effect of traveling by dark energy.  Odd, considering the fact that there couldn’t be more than a dozen mortals in the room, and none of them should have been close enough for him to smell.  It was something that had not crossed his mind too much during his short visit to tell Thor his all time favorite lie, but, then, he hadn’t spent so long before then in the scentless void or surrounded by creatures that didn't care how they smelled.

 

It got better when he and his newly acquired team reached open air, but the currents that swept back from the cabin of the truck still made his nose twitch.  

 

Putting it down to cultural differences, he risked a bit of his dangerously low seiðr to dampen his sense of smell as they drove away from the newly created crater.

 

***

 

The second thing Loki realized was that he had a problem.  He had obviously miscalculated his time either in the void or in preparation for battle, because he could feel the stirring of sexual frustration that indicated it was the height of the seiðr cycle throughout the nine realms.  It only happened every two decades, but of course that time had to occur when he was busy working to claim the throne of Midgard for his own.  It was frustrating, really, since he had no wish to bed anyone, but the urge to do so was so distracting that he used even more seiðr to dampen his desires when bringing himself off didn’t fully satisfy.  At least each self-induced release regained more than was used in the small working.

 

He suddenly really missed the gathering of seiðkona and other, fewer, seiðrmadr that occurred, filled with lustful revelry and great workings of sex-driven magic, mostly because willing bodies of powerful mages made better companions than his own hand.

 

The fact that members of his staff suddenly eyed him in a way not befitting a military leader annoyed him.  It was especially vexing when his second in command leaned close and _sniffed_ him while they were walking through base, on their way to consult with Selvig.

 

“What are you doing?” he snapped, glaring.

 

Barton at least had the grace to look embarrassed.  “I’m sorry, sir,” he mumbled, turning away as he reddened.  “It won’t happen again.”

 

“See that it does not,” Loki huffed, pointedly raising the scepter ever so slightly.

 

Whatever this was quickly turned into a larger issue with his mortal staff.  It all came to a head when Lind, one of the highly recommended researchers under Selvig, suddenly came down with something, causing her to flush and constantly stammer around certain members of the group.  Her productivity dropped through the floor.  Those certain members were no better, only paying very specific attention to the blonde and picking fights with one another.  Considering he had a rather short time table, Loki was forced to step in and put power behind the command that they focus.  Even then, the aggressive group still fought more than the mind control should have let them, and he had to replace Lind with another physicist that could actually pay attention.

 

Since this was the same group that was eyeing him, Loki was confused.  Still, they followed his orders and he didn’t need them for much longer, so he didn’t think on it overly much.  

 

***

 

Loki had hoped that the overabundance of perfume use was limited to the area he was considering his home base, but the German populace was just as overzealous in its application.  Still, the mortals attending the event smelled slightly different, wreathed in a haze of oils that Loki could recognize was as expensive as the fancy dress they wore.  Appropriate, really.  The odor of synthetically enhanced old money and leather that his target was wearing almost made Loki’s eyes water when he got close enough to grab him.  He had to turn away while the small machine did its work on the man’s eye, and he took the opportunity to take in the shocked fear of the crowd.  

 

Ah, beautiful.

 

Still, the fact that there was that strange desiring look mixed in on some of the faces surrounding him actually made a small twinge of discomfort slide down his spine.

 

Again, he was quite glad when it was time to head outside, walking much slower than the panicking mortals as he pulled up his seiðr to shift into his armor.  After all, a twitchy nose and running eyes would not fit the little show he had planned.

 

His audience didn’t quite fit the show, either.   Sure, they kneeled rather prettily when he commanded them to, but the old man who stood back up spoke lines that seemed as though they were from a different script.

 

“I won’t kneel to a man like you,” he said, indignant.

 

Well, that was expected, really.  “There are no other men like me,” Loki said with an almost patient smile.  

 

“There are many men like you, all complacent on an Alpha’s leash, just like they belong.”

 

Loki could only blink, not really comprehending.  The scepter-turned-staff even tilted slightly in his hand.  “What –“

 

Naturally, that was when the resistance that he had been expecting arrived, announced via a flung shield that hit his chest hard while he was inattentive.  He had been informed of the so called Avengers Initiative from Barton, so he was able to instantly recognize the man that swept in to take the stage.  Captain America was a perfect addition to his theatre: strong and statuesque.  The lines he delivered were almost as good as the ones Loki would have written for him, and he fought admirably.  

 

At least, he did until he managed to close in.  Then he stopped mid-shield bash, wide-eyed and flushing.  “Oh,” he said wonderingly.

 

“What?” Loki snapped, straightening out of his crouch.  The battle high was rushing through his veins, and anger was rising to compensate as it cooled.  Anger at all the slights that he was gathering while on this stupid realm.

 

The flush heightened, but the Captain also stood straighter.  The moment he opened his mouth to respond, a loud racket that Loki hesitated to call music filled the air.  Loki looked up, noticing first that the noise was coming from the flying vehicle that had dogged the ground battle, obviously waiting for a shot.  Then he saw the red shooting star that turned out to be a man, or at least something man-shaped.  His memory helpfully supplied that Barton had mentioned a man who flew around in such a way – a mortal who was a great builder of mechanical things.  Anthony Stark, or Iron Man, as he was known while wearing the suit.

 

A white hot blast interrupted his musing, slamming into Loki’s chest and knocking him back into the set of steps behind him.  Really hard stone steps, as his back discovered.  Wincing, Loki sat up and looked over.  The very last line of the song timed up perfectly with the moment the red and gold man held up an arm, showing off the preparation of another blast.

 

“Make a move, Reindeer Games,” the man said smugly, the Captain moving to stand beside him.

 

“Shoot to thrill”, indeed.

 

Naturally, Loki gracefully surrendered.  After all, everything was going according to plan.

 

***

 

Okay, so Loki’s plan didn’t account for Thor bursting into the plane en route to the mortal’s base to steal him away, but he was nothing but flexible.  The conversation after the unflattering and hard landing had been expectedly dramatic, Loki picking at Thor simply because he could.  He did veer off just a bit to assuage his curiosity, though, since Thor was the one who had spent more time on Midgard in the past.

 

“Tell me, Thor, why do you love the mortals so much, anyway?  They act odd, even by other realm standards, and the whole place wears enough perfume to kill a bilgesnipe at one thousand paces.”

 

Thor’s eyebrows drew down in his confusion, causing a little wrinkle between them.  “What do you mean?”

 

“You didn’t notice?” Loki asked incredulously.

 

Thor shrugged.  “It is understandable that there would be cultural differences between their realm and ours.  I also do not smell anything particularly out of place.”

 

Loki just stared.  He knew Thor’s sense of smell was weak – so many scent-based pranks in the past had failed miserably – but he had no clue that it was _that_ weak.  Of course, Thor took that moment to turn the conversation back to the strange combination of pleading and threat he had been working with, and Loki was quite grateful when a red blur knocked him away mid-sentence.  

 

***

 

It took until he was trapped in the glass cage aboard the Midgardian flying fortress that Loki finally discovered what the hell was wrong with everyone.  Sure, during his initial interrogation with the one-eyed director was not the best time to do it – it knocked his game off just a little – but it was nice to finally have that question answered.

 

“What did you just call me?” Loki said, bemusement breaking what had been a really good streak of maliciousness.

 

Fury – and what an interesting name that was – raised an eyebrow.  “An Omega.”  At Loki’s continued confusion, he sighed.  “Look, I don’t know what they call your kind on Asgard, but the fact remains that you’re a jumped up little runt who is obviously overcompensating for something.”  While Loki’s anger rose, Fury sniffed the air.  “Though how you’re causing so much mayhem while in heat is anybody’s guess.”

 

Certain that the man had found out about his Jotun parentage somehow, Loki had been preparing a tastefully cutting little addition to his spiel, but the second sentence stopped him cold.  “What does the temperature have to do with anything?” he asked, tilting his head slightly in bemusement.

 

Fury suddenly looked a strange mixture of incredulous and embarrassed.  “I’m talking about the peak of the sexual cycle you Omegas – or whatever you are called – have,” he said, slowly, as though speaking to a small child.

 

Loki ignored the implied insult and laughed.  It didn’t make any more sense, but at least he was on the same page now.  “Oh, silly mortal, why would I have anything of the sort?  I’m a man of Asgard.  We can do whatever we want however we want."  He considered it wise not to mention the seiðr cycle or his firstborn.

 

“Mmm-hmm,” Fury said, his expression clearly stating that he didn’t believe Loki.  "Sure doesn't smell like it from here."

 

Either way, even if Loki knew why some of the mortals were treating him strangely, it still didn’t help him any, because they still did it.  Now that he knew what they thought of him, he could see that there was a lack of the deference he would expect, considering his aims.  It was as though the mortals thought less of him due to an assigned, inaccurate designation.

 

Even the red haired assassin, with her exquisite lies and quick mind, appeared to look down on him despite the hint of that wanting in her eyes.

 

Loki was never gladder for an escape plan to come to fruition.  If he was more violent than he would have been otherwise – trapping Thor in the glass cage and dropping him or, in a quick decision, stabbing the man holding the large, reverse engineered weapon with his scepter – it was only to be expected.  

 

***

 

Loki was not proud to admit that he had to take care of his ill-timed erection in the lavish penthouse bathroom of Stark’s ugly tower.  Gritting his teeth as he took himself in hand, he cursed the general unfortunate timing of the seiðr cycle, the peak of which would be soon.  It hadn’t helped that he had not had any time to himself over the day he had been imprisoned in the flying fortress, and that theme had continued during the escape and subsequent traveling.  It was only when he was waiting for the Tesseract to power up enough to open the portal that he found time that was not filled with necessary preparations.

 

As he spilled over, he placed the same spells as before, plus one to dampen his own scent from the mortals.  After a moment, he changed his mind and broke the last one, figuring that any misconceptions, while bewildering, could be useful in the heat of battle.

 

Loki walked out the bathroom just in time to see the red and gold blur of the tower’s owner flash by outside the window, heading up to where the Tesseract-powered device was preparing to open the portal.  He wasn’t worried – the device had reached the point where it was self-sustaining a while ago.  Casually smoothing his hair with a hand-wave, he stepped out onto the balcony to wait.

 

From the sound, it appeared as though Stark had attempted to shoot the device. When the man flew back into his vision, Loki had controlled his amused laughter, instead greeting Stark with a hint of smug smile.  Walking back toward the door he exited from, he watched as the machinery removed the armor, revealing the mortal that he had already deemed attractive, but no more special than any other back at the helicarrier.  After all, he’d only had eyes for the monster, who had looked surprisingly placid at the time.

 

When Loki made it back inside, Stark was walking in from the entrance above, making a beeline for the ornate bar that lined the wall.  Stark’s eyes snapped up to him, and he could tell that something was off with the man.  Keeping his expression neutral, Loki walked further into the room slowly.  “Please tell me you’re going to appeal to my humanity.”

 

Stark seemed to shake himself, continuing towards the bar instead of looking at Loki.  “No, I’m actually here to threaten you.”

 

“You should have left your armor on for that.”

 

Stark slid behind the counter, his gaze still resolutely not on Loki.  Loki, of course, thought this a rather odd thing.  A warrior should face his foe.  “I probably should have,” he said, voice low as though Loki wasn’t supposed to hear it.  Then he took a very visible deep breath before speaking louder.  “But it’s a bit beat up, and you have the glow stick of destiny there.”  He actually turned to Loki for that, gesturing towards the scepter.

 

Then Stark stood up even straighter, a strange little smile crossing his lips.  Now that he was looking, his brown eyes were heavy on Loki, as though he wanted to pick up every movement. “Would you like a drink?” he asked, his voice slightly lower.

 

Noticing that this was going to be another one of _those_ interactions, Loki sighed.  Stupid mortals and their misconceptions.  “Stalling me won’t change anything.”  

 

Stark had grabbed two glasses anyway and was pouring.  “No, not stalling.”  His smile widened.  “Threatening.”  

 

Disconcerted by the way Stark was starting to trail eyes down his body, Loki turned toward the windows.  “The Chitauri are coming, and there is nothing you can do to stop them.”

 

“If you’re so sure about that, then you can afford to have a drink with me.”

 

Loki’s grip tightened on the scepter.  Well, getting close would give him an opportunity to take Stark’s mind for his own.  “Very well.”  He turned to the bar again, noticing that Stark was looking very smug.  “Just one.  Even though I doubt that your Midgardian brews can even touch me, I still like to go into battle free from all distractions.”

 

As Loki walked up to the bar, Stark sidled out from behind it, both drinks in his hand.  He held one out.  “Well, if distraction-free is the norm, than I’m already failing.”  At Loki’s curious look, he added, “You are one hell of a distraction.”

 

Loki’s eyes narrowed as he took the glass filled with amber liquid, unintentionally brushing Stark’s fingertips.  There was a small spark, yes, but it was so close to the seiðr cycle peak that touching anyone else at this point would probably get a reaction.  “You are a fool.  Do you think a drink and pretty words will lure me in?”  He took a sip.  It was surprisingly good.

 

Stark’s eyes never left his mouth as he did so.  A hint of tongue moved across Stark’s lips as he watched, quickly covered by a long drink that downed half of his own glass.  “If not, I would like to know what would,” he said after coming up for air.

 

“If you are so inclined to be mine, then you will not mind fighting for my cause.”  Loki took another sip, and raised the scepter while Stark was preoccupied with looking at his mouth.  He felt the hum as the energy flashed a brighter blue, and he touched it to the mortal’s chest, right over his heart.  

 

There was an odd tinking noise at contact, and Stark’s eyes remained the same deep brown.  Loki’s eyes drew down in confusion.  He lowered his glass.  “This usually works,” he muttered.

 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Stark breathed, relief clear in his expression.  

 

Loki yet again touched the tip to the mortal’s chest.  Still no use.  

 

Stark resumed talking as though Loki hadn’t just been trying to take over his mind.  “Anyway, I think you’d find it to be the other way around.  You would be mine.”

 

Loki lowered the scepter.  It figured that he was stuck having _this_ conversation, of all things.  “What is the difference?”

 

Stark’s gaze darkened.  “I don’t know how it is in fairy land or whatever, but here Omegas belong to their Alphas.”  He gave a lopsided smile.  “Also, um, you kind of already accepted.”

 

Loki blinked.  “What?”

 

“You accepted my hospitality,” he said, glancing to the half empty glass in Loki’s hand.  Then he sniffed the air, and his eyes dilated slightly.  "Hell, your scent is everywhere, too.  That means we’re practically going steady, babe."  

 

“You mortals are ridiculous,” Loki scoffed, shaking his head.

 

“But we’re interesting.”  Tony leaned forward, slowly closing the space between them, that sly smile on his lips.  “You have to think so.  Otherwise, why would you be trying to rule us?”

 

Loki stood his ground as the mortal swayed closer.  Considering the short distance, he was actually surprised to just now catch a hint of Stark’s scent.  While the rest of his kind drenched themselves in perfumes, it seemed as though this man just splashed.  It was almost normal.

 

Also, Stark smelled _good_.

 

Loki shook himself.  No, just no.  “I want a throne, Stark.  That’s all.”

 

Stark chuckled.  He was close enough that Loki actually felt the air disturbed by his breath.  “Well, that’s actually kind of funny.”  Of course, he moved even closer.  “If that’s your goal, honey, then you picked the wrong planet.  There is no throne here.”  A hand started reaching out.

 

“Well, then I am just going to have to make one.”  Loki stepped back out of reach before he could be touched, downing the rest of this glass and placing it on the bar.  “Thank you for the drink, Stark, but I believe I have a war to start.”

 

The disappointment in Stark’s gaze was covered in an instant.  The man dropped his arm and shrugged.  “Whatever babe.  Feel free to stop by when we’re done kicking your gorgeous ass.”  His smile included a lot of teeth.  “I’ll be happy to stake my claim.”

 

Another weird shudder didn’t stop Loki from growling and reaching for Stark in a mirror of Stark’s own aborted motion, grabbing him around the throat.  “There will be no claim,” he said, voice deadly calm.  Thinking quickly, he wondered what he was going to do if the mortal kept going along those same lines.

 

The choked-off laugh vibrated against his palm.  “Geez, like it rough, do you?  Good.  I’m game.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Loki took great satisfaction in dragging Stark over and chucking him through the window.  It even made getting shot after the man miraculously survived completely worth it.

 

***

 

Actually engaging in battle was seriously Loki’s favorite part of the whole thing.  It was refreshing to yet again pull something over on Thor, especially since it included stabbing him, and the rampant destruction that his army was causing was delightful.  Naturally, going back for the scepter did not go well for him, forcing him to run into the very beast he had enjoyed riling up earlier.

 

Loki tried not to shrink back as the green monster moved toward him.  “Please tell me you’re not going to go all glassy-eyed over me, too.”

 

“Puny god proposition me?” the Hulk asked, looking confused and angry all at once.  There might have been a dash of insulted in there, too.

 

Loki let out a sigh of relief.  “Oh, thank Valhalla.”

 

He took being smashed repeatedly against the floor as the better alternative to what could have happened.   

 

***

 

It took forever to heal, so Loki continued to lay in the crater his body had forcefully made until the Avengers appeared, all of them exhausted and victorious.  They surrounded him as he struggled to sit up, everyone looking very angry.

 

Well, he knew when he had been beaten.  Putting his hands in the air, he grinned wryly at Thor.  “I think I’m ready to go back to Asgard, brother.”

 

Thor’s eyes narrowed.  “Oh, now you call me brother, after stabbing me and destroying a large part of the mortals’ city.  You seemed quite satisfied not remaining in Asgard before.  What has changed your mind?”

 

Loki looked at the circle around him before just spitting it out.  “This place reeks, the mortals have strange ideas, my back is killing me, my ex-allies are going to hunt me down like a dog, and everyone keeps trying to court me!  I don’t even want the stupid planet anymore.”

 

Stark opened his mouth to say something, but Loki’s glare actually made him close it.

 

Thor raised an eyebrow.  “You would face our father’s judgement because of a culture difference?” he asked, disbelieving.

 

“That is seriously all you got out of that?”  Either way, Loki looked at the group one more time, his eyes landing finally on Stark.  The mortal looked almost hopeful, although there was definitely lust in those brown eyes.  Strange, since Loki was covered in dust from the destroyed floor and dried blood.  It actually sent a little shock of wonder down his newly healed spine, which headed straight for areas it shouldn’t.  

 

That was what decided it.

 

“Cuff me,” he said vehemently, turning back to Thor and holding out his wrists.  “I want to go home.”

 

He was quite glad when Thor obliged.

**Author's Note:**

> ...And I hope that is the last time I feel the urge to rewrite the Tower Scene.
> 
> Continued in ["Unhappy Returns"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1579247).


End file.
